He plays with hearts to please himself,
And when they break he smiles.
‘Unpitied pain and toil in vain
That little tyrant brings;
And those who fain would slip his chain,
Must cheat him of his wings.
‘To Cupid’s tortures, you may guess,
Each parent lends a part;
The chain, the toils, from Idleness,
While Folly adds the smart.’